I turn toward her. “Myna?”
Her eyes flicker to mine before darting away. She shrugs, her movements too casual. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just on edge.”
The words chill me. I step closer, lowering my voice. “Why?”
She hesitates for a long moment, long enough for Nyssa to step closer, her expression sharpening into something more cautious. Myna just shakes her head, offering a small, tight smile. “Nothing in particular. I just want the extraction completed and the trials concluded, so we can focus our efforts without distraction.”
Her deflection is clear, but this isn’t the time or place to push her. Instead, I nod, accepting her nonanswer for now. But the unease she plants lingers.
When the three of us step into the sitting room, the rest of the Flight is waiting, their gazes shifting when we enter. Raven’s burns the hottest, cutting through the air and hooking directly into my chest.
His eyes wander a slow path down and then up my body, devouring every inch of me. When they finally return to my face, they’re molten. Heated with an intensity that curls around my heart and pools low in my stomach.
That warm, liquid heat turns to frigid ice when Lark opens his mouth.
“Nope,” he says, standing and shaking his head profusely. “This is a terrible idea. Awful.”
Tension creeps into my body. Nyssa crosses her arms and glares at him from across the room.
“What do you mean? Of course it will work.”
“Uh, are you blind? Do you see her?” His face scrunches up as he gestures at me. “Do you see all of that?”
“Explain, Lark,” Raven demands, steel lining his voice.
Lark turns to him, arms flapping at his sides and exasperation written all over his face. “The prince is going to take one look at her and want to eat her alive.”
I wrinkle my nose, stomach twisting with disgust at the image his words paint.
“That’s the point, Lark,” Heron says with a roll of his eyes. “Are you done with the theatrics now? We have an assignment to complete. I’m sure Starling can handle herself from here.”
The room sobers at his words.
Raven clears his throat, and my heart clenches as I turn to him. The warm light from the flames dances along the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows against his chiseled jaw and catching on the untamed waves of dark hair that frame his eyes. He looks like he belongs in this kingdom, sculpted from its grandeur and violence, yet there’s something in the hard set of his jaw that doesn’t fit. It’s him against it all—against this place, this mission, even this moment.
I drink in every detail, the golden flecks in his irises, the muscle shifting at the edge of his jawline. I want to touch him, stop him, hold him here as if I could slice this moment from time and keep it.
But instead, my nails dig into my palms. I can’t reach for him. Not here.
“This is the plan,” Raven says finally, and his voice is steady, even while his knuckles tighten over the chair’s armrest. “Heron is right. The two of you should leave now. Remain at the ball and keep the prince distracted until you receive my signal.”
His words are measured, but I know him too well to miss the hesitation at the end. Something about this night, about letting me go, tearsthrough him as much as it does me. His mask is flawless to the others, but to me, his cracks are blinding.
My fingers tighten around the tangible mask on my own face as I adjust it, the quartz edges biting into my skin. It feels awkward and weighted, like a shield I’m staring out from behind, and the unease that’s settled in my chest only grows. “And the signal?” I ask, hating the slight tremor in my voice and praying the others don’t notice.
Raven’s gaze snaps to mine. Somehow, his amber eyes soften without losing their heat. His focus pins me, holds me in place, as if to say all the things he cannot.
“You’ll know it when you see it,” he promises, the words carrying an undertone that only I catch.
I search his expression, fighting the growing ache in my chest, wondering what that promise hides. Behind me, Nyssa shifts, Myna stirs, and the others remain oblivious to the storm threatening to break between us.
But I feel it—everything he cannot say. All I want to do is grasp it, hold it, tell him that I’ll be waiting for him, always. I push those impulses aside and nod, forcing myself to turn back toward the door.
Each step away from him feels like a splinter lodging deeper in my chest, but I force my breathing steady. For tonight, I must wear my mask as much as my gown.
If I fall apart now, there will be nothing left to save.
“Are you ready to go in?” Nyssa whispers, sympathy shining in her eyes as she adjusts my mask.
